


Aim & Ignite

by sohapppily



Series: Light Metaphors [3]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-06-24 14:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15632646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohapppily/pseuds/sohapppily
Summary: A year in the life, and then some.Deleted, extended and reworked scenes from I Will Be the Sun, I Will Wake You Up.





	1. Happy New Year, I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU'RE READING THIS WITHOUT HAVING READ[YOU MAKE ME GLOW](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892596) AND [I WILL BE THE SUN](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956560), STOP NOW.**  
>  read those first. then come back here. this is literally just a collection of stuff within that universe.
> 
> [extremely shane in that sims video voice] WE'RE BACK!!!
> 
> i told myself i was gonna take a little bit of time away from this verse and then dive back into it and properly write out all my ideas. but did i do that? of course not! as i said in the author's notes for the last chapter of IWBTS, some of these are scenes i started but scrapped, some of them are important moments from someone else's POV, some of them are ideas i had after i posted the chapter and was sad i couldn't fit in. i dumped everything into a google doc and now i gotta make it prose.
> 
> i can't promise any regularity to these updates but there's definitely a few more coming. each update will be a complete story, though. no cliffhangers here.
> 
> title from [light a roman candle with me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXw5vlVig3o) by fun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I miss you. We haven’t talked like all week and I know that’s my doing but it still sucks. It’s weird to travel without you now. Like, whenever I’m sitting on a plane, I expect you to be next to me. It’s so cool that we get to travel so much together and see all these cool places. I’m so glad it’s with you. I miss you. Did I say that already? Fuck, Ryan, I’m so drunk. Why did I get this drunk? Jesus. Okay. Anyway. Hope you’re having a good New Year’s, even if you are asleep right now like a total fuckin’ loser. But I still love you, despite your sleeping on New Year’s loser-ness and the fact that you’re not answering my phone calls.”

**NEW YEAR’S EVE VOICEMAILS — SHANE’S POV**

* * *

Shane was fucking drunk. So fucking drunk that he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten this drunk. Or how drunk he even was. All he knew was that the cute bartender was named Ryan, and even though he wasn’t as cute as Shane’s Ryan, it was enough to keep Shane going back.

He slurped down the last of his whiskey, pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the first number he had saved in his favorites. After a few rings, it went to voicemail.

_“Hey, it’s Ryan. You know what to do.”_

“RYAN!” Shane yelled into the phone, drawing the word out as much as he could. “Happy New Year, buddy! Well, for me, not for you yet. Time is fucking _dumb_. Anyway, Ryan, I wish you were here! This bar is showing Back to the Future on a big screen and it’s fucking incredible. Also–”

Shane felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to find his very annoyed brother.

Shane tilted he phone away from his face. “Scott, hang on, I’m talking to Ryan.”

“You’re yelling,” Scott said.

“Of course I’m yelling, everyone in here is yelling!”

“Yeah, but I could hear you across the room.”

“Okay, fine,” Shane said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, then continued into the phone, “Hey, Ry, I’m gonna call you back in a few!”

He hung up the phone, but the stern look on Scott’s face didn’t budge.

“What?”

“That was Ryan?” Scott asked.

Shane looked at the floor. “Yeah.”

“The same Ryan that, like, two hours ago, you told me you absolutely were not going to call?”

“I was left unsupervised,” Shane said.

“You’re a grown man,” Scott countered.

“A _drunk_ grown man.”

“Jesus,” Scott muttered. “Why are you doing this to yourself, bro?”

“Because it’s New Year’s and I’m celebrating!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Shane frowned. “I know.”

“You made me take all this time off work,” Scott started, “so we could all hang out as a family, and you could ‘recharge’ or whatever the hell, and now you’re drunk dialing Ryan?”

“I know.”

“This is exactly what you came here to get away from,” Scott said, and Shane noticed that his tone had softened considerably.

“I _know_. But he’s done with whatshername.”

“You know her name, Shane.”

“He’s over it,” Shane continued. “He’s single.”

Scott looked at him for a few moments before saying, “But _you’re_ not.”

“Yeah, but…” Shane trailed off and looked at the ground.

“Look, I know you’ve got a lot going on in that big head of yours,” Scott said. “We literally went through it for hours last night. But you’ve got a good thing going.”

“Our heads are the same size,” Shane retorted quietly, a beat too late.

“I’m just saying. Sara loves you, and you love her. Don’t fuck up something real for a hypothetical.”

Shane didn’t know what to say, so in lieu of a response, he snatched Scott’s half-full drink and swallowed it in one gulp. “I’ll be outside.”

“Doing what?” Scott called as Shane walked away, and Shane didn’t reply.

He pushed through the crowd of people and over to the coat rack by the door, which was piled high on such a busy night. After a bit of digging, he managed to pull out his dark coat and his father’s red scarf. It was a bit of a drunken struggle, but eventually, he managed to wrap himself up and walk outside.

He stepped away from the bar and over to one of the streetlamps, leaning against the pole for support as he worked up the courage to call Ryan again. As much as he loved LA, the tingling feeling of the crisp winter air on his flushed cheeks and the sight of his breath turning to fog in front of him was something he missed.

“Need a light?”

Shane looked over to see a young woman standing a few feet away, smoking the last of a cigarette. She was much shorter than he was, with thick glasses and wild, dark curls. The smattering of Steven Universe pins on her lapel drew his eye, and Shane felt a pang of guilt in his gut.

“What?”

“Do you need a lighter?” she repeated.

“Oh. No, I’m not… I’m just out here to make a phone call.”

“Word.” She stubbed out the butt against the lamppost and flicked it into the gutter. “Happy New Year.”

“You too,” Shane replied, but she was already walking away.

_“Hey, it’s Ryan. You know what to do.”_

“Me again,” Shane said. “Are you asleep or something? Why aren’t you answering me? Anyway, Scott made me go outside to talk to you because apparently I was yelling too loud? Whatever.”

He watched flurries start to fall from the sky as he spoke, and a wide smile spread across his face. “It’s freezing out here, but it’s snowing, so it’s really pretty. It’s so weird that you don’t have snow right now. I wish you were here. Back to the Future is so much more fun when you’re drunk, did you know that?”

Shane paused. “I miss you. We haven’t talked like all week and I know that’s my doing but it still sucks. It’s weird to travel without you now. Like, whenever I’m sitting on a plane, I expect you to be next to me. It’s so cool that we get to travel so much together and see all these cool places. I’m so glad it’s with you. I miss you.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “Did I say that already? Fuck, Ryan, I’m so drunk. Why did I get this drunk? Jesus. Okay. Anyway. Hope you’re having a good New Year’s, even if you are asleep right now like a total fuckin’ loser. But I still love you, despite your sleeping on New Year’s loser-ness and the fact that you’re not answering my phone calls.”

Shane paused as his brain caught up to his words. He’d just told Ryan he loved him. _Fuck_. He quickly continued, hoping that Ryan wouldn’t notice.

“What if I was dying right now, huh? What if that’s why I’m calling? To say my goodbyes. You wouldn’t even know, Ryan. Fuck, I’m just imagining you with a little ouija board like, ‘I’m sorry, Shane, I should’ve answered the phone!’”

Laughter bubbled up in Shane’s chest, and before he could stop himself, he was nearly doubled over against the lamppost. A few passersby gave him strange looks, but he was too intoxicated and too happy to care about what strangers on the street in Chicago thought of him.

“God, that’s so funny,” Shane said after his laughter died down. “I know you hate ouija boards, but you’d use one for me, right? I’d probably try one for you...”

Shane was suddenly overwhelmed with a vision of himself in a dark room, his fingertips resting gently on a motionless planchette, waiting for a spirit that would never come. He closed his eyes.

“Sorry. I don’t wanna think about you dying. It’s too sad. Don’t die, Ryan, okay? Not before we…” He trailed off, then turned back toward the bar. Scott was standing in the window, looking very annoyed. He mimed hanging up a phone, so Shane flipped him off. “Okay, I’m hanging up for real now because my hand is going to freeze off. Snow is so goddamn cold.”

Shane took a step away from the lamppost as Scott emerged from the bar.

“Happy New Year. I love you. Bye.” As Shane hung up the phone, he yelled, “Okay, Scott, I’m coming back inside!”

Scott blocked his path. “Did you just tell Ryan you love him?”

“What?”

“You just ended that call by saying, ‘I love you.’”

“Did I?”

“Yeah.”

Shane sighed. “Fuck.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Are you gonna call Sara?” Scott asked.

Shane shrugged. “Should I?”

“Probably.”

Shane looked out at the street, at all the people celebrating New Year’s with the people they loved right next to them rather than 2,000 miles away. He wished someone was next to him, the question was who.

“Ryan,” Shane said, answering his own thoughts out loud.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Ryan. Ryan is who.”

“What the fuck are you saying, dude?”

Shane shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s go back inside.”

Before Scott could answer, Shane walked toward the door. After wrestling his coat off and having a few more drinks, he plopped down on one of the couches in the back of the bar.

He slid his phone out of his pocket and opened his text thread with Ryan. He slowly read through their messages from the last few weeks, reliving the conversations in his head.

“Why didn’t you answer the phone, Ry?” Shane whispered to the screen, then tapped out a text.

> _Hey ry sry I ended that voicemail wit h I love you I didn’t mean to say that hahah anyawy happy new year!!!!!_

* * *

When Shane woke up the next morning, he was fairly certain his brain had melted as he’d slept. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, shielding his face from the sunlight tearing through his retinas. After a few minutes, he dared to peek at his phone. It was nearly noon.

After another twenty minutes of mental preparation, he made his way downstairs. Scott and his dad were camped out in the living room watching The Twilight Zone, which was exactly how he’d expected to find them.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” his dad said with a laugh.

“Morning.” Shane was unable to conjure a snarky response as he sat down on the couch.

They didn’t move for hours, and Shane was utterly content with that decision. Eventually, he drifted off, and when he woke up, the sun had set again.

“What time is it?” he asked, his voice groggy.

“Almost 6:30,” Scott answered.

“Which episode is on?”

“Talky Tina. Kanamit’s up next.”

“Nice,” Shane replied simply.

He didn’t voice the fact that this episode was the subject of a running joke between himself and Ryan, or the fact that for some reason, Ryan had been the only thing on his mind since he’d woken up that morning. When the scene he’d long tormented Ryan with arrived, he took out his phone and snapped a picture of the television. He pulled up his text thread with Ryan to send the photo, then stopped cold.

In the text field sat an unsent text. A very drunk, very incoherent text about ending a voicemail with, “I love you.” Shane stared at it for a solid minute.

“Hey, Scott?” Shane asked, looking over at his brother. “Did I leave Ryan a voicemail last night?”

“You don’t remember?” Scott asked, and Shane shook his head. “You left him two voicemails, dude.”

“Oh,” Shane said simply.

He wondered if Ryan had listened to them by now, and what he thought of the fact that one of them apparently ended with,” I love you.” Shane deleted his drunk text and typed out a new one.

> _Hey man sorry about the drunk voicemails. Hope they weren’t too embarrassing. Happy New Year!_

After a moment of consideration, he deleted that, too, then attached his photo of the television and tapped out the message he’d planned on sending in the first place.

> _Watching your fav ep of Twilight Zone on Syfy!_

Ryan didn’t respond, and anxiety began to claw at the edges of Shane’s mind. What if Ryan had listened to the voicemail, listened to Shane say he loved him, and gotten freaked out? What if Ryan put together the pieces and figured out the feelings Shane had been harboring for years? Shane could handle having Ryan as just a friend, but he couldn’t handle not having Ryan at all.

Just when he’d worked himself into a fever-pitch of internal anguish, his phone lit up.

> **_FUCK THAT EPISODE_ **
> 
> _“It’s a cookbook!”_
> 
> **_STOP!!!_ **

Shane grinned and sent back a few alien emojis, and laughed to himself when Ryan sent back a line of middle fingers.

“Who’s making you laugh over there?” his dad asked.

“Sara,” Shane lied, ignoring Scott’s pointed look.

“Tell her we all said Happy New Year!”

“I will.”

Shane set his phone down on the couch beside him and didn’t pick it back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i unfortunately was not blessed with the gift of being able to draw but i wish i was because the vision i have of shane with flushed cheeks all wrapped in a scarf and jacket under a warm yellow streetlight on the sidewalk in chicago with snow flurrying down around him as he talks on the phone is SO clear in my head and basically what i’m getting at is if this image happens to inspire anyone to create, please send it to me here since i’m not in the unsolved fandom at all (aside from following a few instas and one twitter update acc) and wouldn’t see it otherwise pls thx.
> 
> UPDATE: THE EXCELLENT [PANDAPOP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandapop/pseuds/pandapop) DREW IT AND I'M OBSESSED. [GO SEND IT LOVE.](https://www.instagram.com/p/BmYcU57lM5p/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)


	2. You're An Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As soon as Shane opened the apartment door, he heard Ryan’s snoring coming from the bedroom. It was choked and stuttering, like he was having trouble breathing. The worry occupying Shane’s thoughts only intensified. He strode quickly to the bedroom, not concerned with whether or not Sara was following behind. He nearly gasped when he saw Ryan. He looked even worse than he had through Shane’s phone, curled up and shivering under his blankets. Shane’s heart broke, just a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all i’m sorry i have been going THROUGH IT and everything i wrote came out wrong and weird and i didn’t wanna slap something together that i wasn’t pleased with so anyway sorry about the delay. hopefully at least one or two of you still care about this lil fic that i refuse to let die even if my brain is a mess.

**RYAN’S SICK DAY – SHANE’S POV**

* * *

“Have you heard from Ryan?” Devon asked, leaning against Shane’s desk.

Shane shook his head. “Not at all. I’m starting to get a little worried.”

It was Ryan’s second day out sick, and Shane was much more than ‘a little’ worried. In all the time he’d known him, Shane could only ever remember Ryan taking one sick day. The man’s work ethic was unreal, and he was notorious for working himself to the bone. More than once, Shane had implored him to cut out early, go home and go to sleep. Ryan only obliged half the time.

“Me too,” Devon said, then pushed upright. “Let me know if you hear from him, okay?”

“Will do.”

She patted Shane on the shoulder and walked away, and Shane sank back into his work. The office always felt off kilter when Ryan wasn’t there, and his empty desk was strangely distracting.

Shane’s phone lit up with a text from Ryan, breaking his train of thought.

> **_Com eover shaen_ **
> 
> _???_
> 
> **_Im dyingn I need help pleas_ **

A siren went off in Shane’s mind. Maybe Ryan’s sick day was more serious than he’d realized, and the worry that had been plaguing him wasn’t for naught. Terrified, he stumbled through his phone and called Ryan.

“Pick up pick up pick up,” he chanted as the phone rang. “Come on, Ryan, pick up.”

On the last ring, Shane heard a grunt on the other end.

“Ryan?” he asked, and he could hear the panic in his voice. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Ryan barely sounded human.

“What’s wrong? Should I call an ambulance?”

Shane pulled his phone slightly away from his face, ready to call 911 if he had to. Ryan croaked out an indescribable sound, then mumbled something incoherent.

“Ry, you’re scaring me a little bit here,” Shane said, and the sirens in his mind got louder. “I can barely understand what you’re saying.”

He heard Ryan take a deep breath, then he said what sounded like, “Can you come over?”

“Come over?” Shane repeated. “Is that what you said?”

Ryan didn’t answer, and then the line went dead. Shane stood up and looked around, not sure of what to do. He could feel his hands starting to shake. Before he could panic any further, his phone rang with a FaceTime request from Ryan. He sighed, then answered the call as he sat back down.

He was taken aback by the sight. Ryan was in his bed, his hair matted with sweat and his skin pale as a sheet. His eyes were glassy and his lips were cracked and chapped.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Shane said. “Are you even alive?”

“Come over,” Ryan repeated.

Shane looked at his computer screen, and a half-finished Ruining History script looked back.

“I’m at work, man,” Shane said. “I can’t just–”

“Please.”

The desperation in Ryan’s voice made Shane’s heart melt.

“Hang on. Stay on the line with me, okay?”

Shane watched Ryan nod, then pushed out of his chair. He walked through the BuzzFeed office as quickly as he could, trying his hardest not to break into a full sprint.

“Sara,” he said, a bit breathless as he came to a stop next to her desk.

“Hey!” she replied, her voice bright as she took off her headphones. “What’s up?”

“Do you want to go to lunch?” he asked.

“Oh, definitely. I can’t look at this goddamn video anymore.”

“Cool,” Shane said as she stood up. “We just have to make one stop.”

She paused. “What stop?”

Shane looked at his feet for a moment. “I want to go check on Ryan, maybe bring him some soup.”

“Shane…”

“Look at him, Sara,” Shane said, holding out his phone.

Ryan had fallen back asleep, he noticed, but he still looked like Death itself.

“Oh my God,” Sara said, and her tone softened. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Shane answered. “That’s why I want to stop by.”

She looked at the phone again. “Okay. Let’s go. I’ll drive, you call in a to-go order to that place we like with the good burgers. I know they have soup.”

“Will do,” Shane said, hanging up the FaceTime call and pulling up his contacts. “What do you want?”

“Goat cheese salad, please.”

Shane couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing the entire drive. He moved faster than he ever had in and out of the restaurant, eager to get to Ryan. He was alarmed by how strong the urge to take _care_ of Ryan was. The fact that Ryan was anything less than perfectly okay weighed too heavy on his heart.

“Wait, how are we gonna get in?” Sara asked as they walked up the driveway to Ryan’s front door. “He can’t answer the buzzer.”

“I have a key,” Shane said, pulling his keychain out of his pocket.

“You do?” Sara asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he answered, then turned the key in the lock. “He has a key to our place, too.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know that.”

“We exchanged them a while ago,” Shane said. “Just in case one of us gets locked out or something, you know?”

“Doesn’t Scott have a spare for our place?”

Shane shrugged as he pressed the elevator call button. “Yeah. Better safe than sorry, though.”

“I guess.”

The silence hung heavy between them as they made their way to Ryan’s apartment, and Shane felt the all too familiar pang of guilt in his gut.

As soon as Shane opened the apartment door, he heard Ryan’s snoring coming from the bedroom. It was choked and stuttering, like he was having trouble breathing. The worry occupying Shane’s thoughts only intensified. He strode quickly to the bedroom, not concerned with whether or not Sara was following behind.

He nearly gasped when he saw Ryan. He looked even worse than he had through Shane’s phone, curled up and shivering under his blankets. Shane’s heart broke, just a bit. He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, then laid a gentle hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Ryan,” he said. “Hey, Ry, it’s me.”

Ryan opened his eyes, and before Shane could say anything else, the color drained from Ryan’s face and his jaw went slack. Then, Ryan shoved him out of the way and vomited into the trash can that was, thankfully, beside his bed.

“Oh, fuck,” Shane said, mostly to himself as he scooted out of the splash zone. Ryan’s body convulsed as he retched, and Shane laid a hand on his back. He rubbed slowly up and down Ryan’s spine, hoping it would be of some comfort to his friend.

After far too long, Ryan’s heaving stopped, and he rolled back onto the bed. His hand clutched at his throat, and Shane could only imagine how horrible it felt.

“Hang on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Shane leaned down and tied off the rancid shopping bag in the trash can, then carried it with him out into the kitchen.

“How is he?” Sara asked from her perch on Ryan’s couch when Shane crossed back through the bedroom door.

“Not great,” Shane said, then held up the bag. “He just puked his fucking guts out.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I’m gonna go toss this in the dumpster then bring him some water.”

“Okay,” Sara said, looking back at her phone.

Once Shane returned to the apartment, he moved around Ryan’s kitchen with ease, knowing exactly where to find the empty cups and plastic straws he was looking for. Quickly, he made his way back to the bedroom and wasn’t surprised to find Ryan asleep again. He put a new bag in the trash can, then sat back down.

“Ry,” he said. “Open your eyes.”

Ryan cracked his eyes open, and Shane could tell it took a moment for him to focus. “What’s that?”

“Water. Can you sit up?” When Ryan remained motionless, Shane asked, “Do you want me to help you sit up?”

Ryan nodded once, so Shane set the cups in his hands back among the wasteland of used tissues on the nightstand. He slid one hand behind Ryan’s head and lifted him just enough to slide his pillow out from under him. Both the pillow and Ryan’s hair were soaked with sweat, but Shane was unfazed. He flipped the pillow and leaned it against Ryan’s headboard, then gripped Ryan’s shoulders to help him scoot up. Once he was situated, Shane sat back on the edge of the bed.

He retrieved the cup that was full of water from the nightstand and moved the straw to face Ryan. “Take a sip, but don’t swallow.”

Ryan nodded, then did as he was told. Shane grabbed the empty cup and held it to Ryan’s lips. “Rinse and spit.”

Shane didn’t flinch as Ryan moved back and forth between the two cups. He idly wished he had a free hand to lay against Ryan’s cheek, but didn’t trust Ryan to hold either cup on his own. The last thing he wanted was a cup of Ryan’s rotten backwash spilled in his lap.

“Good,” Shane said when Ryan finished his water. “I’ve got some chicken noodle for you. Do you want it?”

“Please,” Ryan croaked.

“Okay,” Shane said with a nod. “Hang tight. Don’t fall asleep on me again.”

Shane resisted the urge to press a kiss to Ryan’s forehead, then walked out of the room.

“Sara, can you give me a hand?” he asked as he walked back toward Ryan’s kitchen.

“Sure,” she replied, locking her phone and walking over to him. “What do you need?”

“Grab the big green mug out of that narrow cabinet to the left of the fridge,” Shane instructed, “and put some chicken noodle in it. Heat it up a little in the microwave.”

She nodded and complied as Shane washed out the cups in the sink. He left one on the rack to dry, then refilled the other with ice water. He dashed to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth from under the sink, then brought it back to the kitchen to soak in cold water. He draped the washcloth over his wrist, grabbed the mug from Sara and the water from the counter then returned to the bedroom.

He smiled when he saw Ryan struggling to keep his eyes open like Shane had asked. He sat down on the bed again, flush against Ryan’s body, and tried to ignore Sara lingering in the doorway.

“I didn’t trust you to use a spoon,” Shane said, handing off the mug. “So, if you want more, I’ll refill the mug. Lean your head back a little.”

Ryan did, and Shane laid a hand across his forehead. The heat radiating nearly made Shane cringe. He grabbed the cool washcloth and set it gently against Ryan’s skin.

“He’s burning up,” he said, turning toward Sara.

“Should we bring him to a hospital?” Sara asked. “This is his second day out and he looks dead.”

Shane turned back around. “Do you want to go to the doctor, Ry?”

Ryan shook his head, and Shane couldn’t help but smile as a small line of chicken soup dribbled down his chin. He reached out and wiped it away with his thumb, letting his finger rest against Ryan’s lower lip just a second too long.

“I think he’ll be okay for now.” Shane looked back at Sara. “We’ll check in on him again tomorrow and bring him if he’s still like this.”

She nodded. “Should we head back?”

“No!” Ryan rasped, and Shane turned to look at him. “No, Shane, stay, please.”

Shane frowned. “I have to get back to work, buddy.”

“Please,” Ryan repeated, his voice just above a whisper.

Shane felt roots grow from his heart and into Ryan’s bedside. There was no way he could leave this apartment.

“One second,” he said with a sigh, then motioned for Sara to follow as he left the room.

“If we leave now, we’ll still have a few minutes to sit and eat together,” Sara said, walking toward the couch to grab her bag. “I hate eating at my desk.”

“Sara…” Shane said, and she froze.

“Oh, no,” she said quietly, turning to face him. “Shane, don’t do this.”

“I should probably stay here with him.”

Sara remained silent, and Shane swore he saw steam come out of her ears.

“He’s a wreck. He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Shane, he’s not a _child_.”

“I know that,” Shane said. “But he’s my friend, and I can afford to take the rest of the day off. He needs someone here with him.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Sara said after a few moments. Shane nodded, and she continued, “Where was this compassion last month when I was out sick for three days and you went to work?”

Shane didn’t know what to say.

“Hmm?” Sara pressed, raising her eyebrows.

“I… had to film,” Shane said weakly.

“Yeah, on _one_ of the days. Yet, you went to work for all three, even though I was also, as you said, a wreck.”

“Sara…”

“Don’t _Sara_ me right now,” she snapped. “I don’t understand _why_ you keep choosing _Ryan_ over your _girlfriend_.”

“I’m not _choosing_ him over you,” Shane said. “We just… work together a lot…”

“Oh, this is work?” Sara asked.

Shane hung his head.

With a soft sigh, Sara walked forward and took Shane’s hands. “I really don’t want to argue about this anymore.”

“Me neither.” Shane lifted one of her hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

She gave him a sad smile. “It hurts me when you choose him over me.”

“I’m not–” Shane started.

“But it _feels_ like you are,” Sara replied. “Whether or not you think you’re doing it, you have to acknowledge _my_ feelings.”

Shane nodded. He’d heard that dozens of times in therapy. “I know.”

“I _love_ you,” Sara said, and the desperation in her voice made Shane feel like an absolute monster.

“I love you, too.”

“So, come on,” she replied with a soft smile. “Ryan will live. Let’s just grab our lunch and go back to work. We can go out for dinner tonight, too. Anywhere you want.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

Shane couldn’t bring himself to agree. “I’ve gotta stay here.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

“No,” Shane said firmly.

Sara’s face turned to stone.

“Okay, what the _fuck_ ever, Shane,” she said, turning on her heel. She grabbed her salad from the fridge and stormed toward the door. “Have fun watching Ryan puke his brains out.”

“You’re not supposed to leave! We’re supposed to talk to–”

In lieu of an answer, she slammed the apartment door behind her.

“Fuck,” Shane whispered as he sat down on Ryan’s couch.

There was nothing he hated more than hurting Sara, and it seemed to be happening far too often lately.

For years, he’d been dealing with his feelings for Ryan simmering on the back burner of his mind. He’d long passed the point of pain, and instead could appreciate the unending fondness he seemed to have for the man who’d become inextricable from his life. Sure, Ryan drove him crazy in a way that no one else could, but then Ryan would laugh and Shane would realize all over again how much he loved him. He had a feeling he always would.

However, he genuinely did love Sara. She was everything he could’ve asked in a partner and then some, and most importantly, she felt the same way about him. She was real and there and within his reach whenever he needed her to be.

Around the advent of 2019, things between him and Ryan felt different in a way that Shane couldn’t quite articulate. Ryan seemed to hold glances longer, sit a tad closer, smile a bit wider. Every touch felt lingering, and more than once he swore he heard Ryan’s heart race in his presence. He felt more drawn to Ryan than he ever had in the past, like a moth who’d been fluttering around in the darkness had suddenly been greeted with an enormous, enticing flame. Shane wanted to fly straight into it and let his entire body ignite.

But he couldn’t. Not until he was sure. He knew it was unfair, and manipulative, and generally shitty behavior, but he was terrified to let go of what he had and take the risk. If he lost Sara _and_ Ryan, he’d have nothing left. And, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he’d ever find anyone else.

He wasn’t used to being the one who was scared.

With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Devon.

> _Hey I’m at Ryan’s. I’m gonna stay with him for a while so I’ll be back in tomorrow._
> 
> **_Is he ok??_ **
> 
> _I mean he’s not dying or anything but it’s not great._
> 
> **_Oh no._ **
> 
> _He’ll live._
> 
> **_I hope.  
>  _ ** **_Give him a kiss for me!!_ **

Shane felt his cheeks heat up as his mind filled with the thought of lying down next to Ryan and pressing a kiss to his blazing forehead, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him close, sickness be damned. He took a deep breath, then typed out a reply.

> _Hard pass. But I’ll tell him you said feel better._
> 
> **_Good enough._ **

Shane put his phone back in his pocket, got another cup of water for Ryan and trudged back to the bedroom. The moment he saw Ryan, the stress from his fight with Sara seemed to disappear. He knew that should make him feel guilty, but instead, he welcomed the respite. He set the water on the nightstand and sat back down on Ryan’s bed. For the first time, he noticed the strange infomercial playing on Ryan’s television.

“What the hell are you watching?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Ryan answered.

Shane smiled, and placed a hand on Ryan’s leg over the blanket. “Do you want me to put on Paddington? That’ll probably make you feel better.”

“Please,” Ryan said as he grinned against the mug he was still clutching, and Shane couldn’t help but grin back.

Shane walked over to Ryan’s TV and inspected the shelf of DVDs underneath. He was always surprised to find them in perfect alphabetical order, and even more surprised to not see Paddington or its sequel between Office Space and Pan’s Labyrinth. He looked slightly up and saw them sitting next to the TV, which made him smile even wider. He wasn’t sure why Ryan’s infatuation with this damn bear was so endearing, but it warmed Shane’s heart every time.

He opened the DVD tray, extracted Paddington 2 and replaced it with Paddington. He navigated through the menus and started the movie, then walked back to the bed, remote in hand.

“Lie down?” Ryan asked.

Shane felt his heart skip a beat. “You want me to lie down?”

“No,” Ryan said, and Shane ignored how much it stung. “Me.”

Moments after Shane managed to get him fully horizontal, Ryan was asleep. Shane sighed. _Now what?_

He made his way back to the kitchen, grabbed his burger and a LaCroix out of Ryan’s fridge and pulled up an episode of 30 Rock on his phone. He ate slowly, trying to focus on Liz Lemon and stop his conversation with Sara from repeating in his head. It didn’t work, of course. He felt like he was tumbling down a well, pinballing back and forth against the walls of guilt and desperation, hearing Sara’s pleas echo around him. He didn’t know what would happen when he hit the bottom.

A phone call from Devon snapped him out of his spiral.

“Hey, Dev,” he said, swallowing his burger.

“Hey. Ryan still alive?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she paused. “New Postmortem’s going up in fifteen.”

“Oh, shit,” Shane said, glancing at the clock on Ryan’s microwave and confirming that it was, in fact, 2:43PM.

“Yeah, I figured you’d be out of the loop,” Devon said, and Shane could hear the smile on her face. “Just post about it on your account. Ryan missing it won’t be the end of the world.”

“I know his passcode,” Shane offered. “I could just post for him.”

Devon laughed. “What, are you gonna tweet from his account that the Hot Daga is brilliant?”

“Oh,” Shane said, a grin spreading across his face. “There’s an idea.”

“No,” she said, laughing again. “I have no part in this. I’m hanging up. Bye, Shane.”

“Bye.”

By the time Shane cleaned up his dishes and walked back into Ryan’s room, it was just shy of 3. Before he could let himself overthink it, he crawled into Ryan’s bed and leaned against back the headboard. He paused Paddington and continued his episode of 30 Rock until Devon texted that the Postmortem was live.

Carefully, he leaned over Ryan, unusually thankful for the length of his limbs, and grabbed the other man’s phone from his nightstand. He tapped in Ryan’s passcode.

 _0504_  
Nothing.

He furrowed his eyebrows and tapped it in again.

 _0504_  
Nothing.

“What the fuck,” he mumbled, then tapped it in one more time, slower and more deliberately.

 _0... 5... 0... 4_  
Nothing.

“Damn it.”

Then, it dawned on him. 0504. May 4th. Ryan’s passcode had been his and Helen’s anniversary. It had been a few months since Shane had needed to unlock Ryan’s phone, and he must’ve changed it between then and now.

“ _Damn_ it,” Shane repeated.

Then Ryan huffed, then flopped onto his side, which flung his arm across his body and caused his right hand to land palm-up, directly on Shane’s thigh. Shane looked at Ryan’s hand, looked at the phone and had an idea.

He set the phone on his thigh, then _very_ carefully wrapped his hand around Ryan’s, flipped it over, and pressed Ryan’s finger to the home button. The phone lit up and unlocked.

“Fuck yeah,” Shane whispered, then smiled down at Ryan’s sleeping face. “Hacked, idiot.”

He opened YouTube, scrolling through the various sports and horror-related videos in Ryan’s feed until the Postmortem showed up. He copied the link, then opened Twitter and composed a new tweet for Ryan.

> **Ryan Bergara  
>  ** _@ryansbergara_
> 
> New Postmortem! Skip the stupid questions and go straight to the Hot Daga. I’ve been converted. It’s a masterpiece. Shane is a genius and I’m an idiot. (This is definitely actually Ryan tweeting and definitely NOT Shane tweeting for him because he’s sick and asleep right now.)
> 
> 3:01 PM - 27 Mar 2019

Shane unlocked his phone, and rather than posting his own tweet, retweeted Ryan’s. He scrolled through some of the replies, mostly calling him a demon or wishing Ryan well, then locked his phone and slid it back in his pocket. He looked at the TV, where Paddington was still playing on mute, then down at Ryan, who was fast asleep.

He took a deep breath. “Now what?”

As if in response to his boredom, he suddenly became distractingly aware of the fact that Ryan’s hand was still resting against his thigh. Palm up, fingers relaxed and splayed out, practically begging to be held. Shane stared at it for what felt like an hour, but in reality couldn’t have been more than 10 seconds.

“I’m not gonna hold his fucking hand,” Shane said to himself, knowing that he absolutely was about to hold Ryan’s fucking hand.

After a quick glance to confirm that Ryan was asleep, Shane inched his hand toward Ryan’s. He moved slowly, and ignored how his own hand had started to tremble, just a bit. When their palms finally connected, Shane laced his fingers through Ryan’s. To his surprise, Ryan’s fingers closed around his own.

Shane looked at Ryan’s face, nervous he’d been caught, but the other man was still out cold. It must’ve just been a subconscious reaction to the contact, Shane figured, but he still thrilled at Ryan _holding his hand_.

They’d held hands before, sure, but only ever under the circumstance of summoning some spirit that didn’t exist. Ryan’s hold had always been loose and reluctant, and since Shane was always scared of making things weird any time things with Ryan got vaguely intimate, he didn’t ever try for a more committed grip.

“This is stupid,” Shane whispered but didn’t let go.

He grabbed Ryan’s remote, turned up the volume on the television, and started Paddington over. He’d long been living the lie that yes, of course, he’d seen the Paddington movies, just to appease Ryan. But as he settled more into the bed, Ryan’s hand still wrapped in his own, he watched it for the first time. By the time the credits rolled, Shane still didn’t quite understand Ryan’s adult dedication to the little bear, but he found himself impossibly more endeared by it.

He looked around the room while the credits ended and the DVD reset itself. He kind of had to pee and he really could use a glass of water or a snack, but the thought of letting go of Ryan’s hand prevented all of that from happening.

To the dismay of girlfriends past and present, Shane had never much liked holding hands. The length of his limbs usually made the angle awkward, and the clamminess caused by prolonged contact always skeeved him out. But now, after hours of holding Ryan’s hand as they rested against his thigh, he’d started to see the appeal.

He stayed like that for a long time, reading a book on his phone while the Paddington menu looped silently on the television, his hand still linked with Ryan’s. As time wore on, he was nearly overwhelmed by how badly he wished it were real, how badly he wished Ryan was holding his hand on his own volition. A quiet Sunday morning, the two of them lounging in bed, holding hands while Ryan watched something and Shane read silently. It became unbearable.

He slid his hand out of Ryan’s, and reality crushed him like an anvil.

Then, Shane noticed for the first time that Ryan’s windows were dark. He looked at his phone and saw that it was just before 8:30.

 _Holy shit_ , he thought. _Have I really been here for almost six hours?_

All at once, he realized that he was _starving_ , his legs were cramped from the strange way he’d had them bent and his bladder was moments away from actually exploding. He carefully slid out of the bed, paused to make sure Ryan hadn’t stirred, then dashed to the bathroom. On his way back to Ryan’s room, he made a pit stop in the kitchen to devour a half-full box of leftover Chinese that had been in Ryan’s fridge. Hopefully, Ryan’s fever-muddled brain wouldn’t notice it was missing.

When he crossed the threshold to Ryan’s bedroom, he suddenly felt intrusive. The idea of settling back into Ryan’s bed felt strange, as if the moment had passed. Guilt over holding Ryan’s hand unbeknownst to him for so long began to seep through his mind.

“Goddamnit,” he said to no one in particular.

His phone buzzed and broke him from his reverie. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a text from Sara.

> **_Hey._ **
> 
> _Hey._
> 
> **_Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have walked away._ **
> 
> _It’s ok. You were angry._
> 
> **_It’s not ok. We have to talk about things._**  
>  **_We both need to make an effort.  
>  _ ** **_So I’m sorry._**
> 
> _Apology accepted.  
>  _ _I’m sorry too._
> 
> **_For?_ **
> 
> _For hurting you._  
>  _I’m sorry that it feels like I’m choosing Ryan over you but I’m not doing it on purpose._  
>  _I just worry about him.  
>  He gets so deep in his own head sometimes._
> 
> **_I know he does.  
>  _ ** **_But it’s not your responsibility to save him._ **

Ryan groaned, and Shane’s eyes shot up from his phone. He watched Ryan toss and curl into himself, and wished for the hundredth time that day he could do _something_ to ease the agony his friend was in.

> _I know.  
>  _ _But is it ok if I try to save him this time?_
> 
> **_How is he?_ **
> 
> _Out cold. Has been since you left._
> 
> **_So……_**  
>  **_You’ve just been there for hours doing nothing?  
>  _ ** **_While he slept?_**
> 
> _I’ve been doing some work stuff.  
>  _ _But yeah.  
>  _ _In case he woke up and needed me._

Shane watched anxiously as a grey ellipsis pulsed underneath his words. Whatever Sara was typing was taking a long time, and he knew it wouldn’t be easy to read. The ellipsis disappeared, and he held his breath, wondering whether she was proofreading or deleting whatever novel she’d just written him. The ellipsis appeared again, then quickly became a message.

> **_I need you Shane._ **
> 
> _I know._
> 
> **_Come home._ **
> 
> _I promise I’ll leave in a few minutes._
> 
> **_Take your time. Save Ryan._**  
>  **_But also like hurry up.  
>  _ ** **_I really want to watch that movie you were telling me about last night._**
> 
> _YES  
>  _ _I’ll text you when I’m leaving here so you can get the popcorn ready._
> 
> **_Deal._ **
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> **_I love you too._ **

As soon as he put his phone back in his pocket, it buzzed again. He pulled it out, half-expecting to see a caveat tacked onto Sara’s love, only to find another text from Devon.

> **_No postmortem ig story?_ **
> 
> _Ah fuck I totally forgot.  
>  _ _Been a little distracted over here._
> 
> **_Are you still with Ryan?_ **
> 
> _Yeah. He’s sleeping._
> 
> **_Oh. Well that’s good.  
>  _ ** **_You could post stories for both of you now for posterity._ **
> 
> _I will.  
>  _ _Thanks mom._

From his place still lingering in the doorway, he pulled up Instagram on his own phone and opened the camera.

“Hey everyone! New Postmortem’s up now. Has been for hours. I’ve been a little busy. Swipe up to watch it if you’ve been out of the loop too!”

He attached the link and posted it to his story, then walked slowly toward Ryan’s bed. He sat down on the edge, a sliver of space between himself and Ryan, and with a near-surgical precision and as little skin-to-skin contact as he could, he once again used Ryan’s finger to unlock his phone.

“Hey, guys. It’s Shane, obviously. Ryan’s sick so I’m posting for him,” Shane said into Ryan’s lens. He panned the camera from his own face, down to Ryan’s sleeping form then back to himself. “The latest Postmortem is up. Swipe up and all that.”

He attached the video link, posted the story and opened the camera again. He flipped to the back camera and focused on Ryan, then hit record.

“Look how peaceful he is now. He was puking his guts out before. It was fuckin’ gross.”

Shane laughed softly to himself as he posted the story. He hoped Ryan would be conscious enough tomorrow to notice it before it expired.

He pushed upright off the bed and shot Sara a text to let her know that he was on his way. Then, he turned back toward Ryan, one last time. Despite his earlier feelings of guilt, he couldn’t help but reach down and gently run a hand through Ryan’s hair.

“I love you,” Ryan mumbled, and Shane froze.

He panicked at the idea of being caught touching Ryan in his sleep, but his brain quickly caught up with what had happened. Ryan hadn’t been angry. He’d told Shane he _loved_ him.

Feeling emboldened by Ryan’s delirium, Shane said, “Love you, too, Ry.”

One of Ryan’s eyes opened, and he said, “I think you’re an angel. Everyone thinks you’re a demon, but you’re an angel.”

Shane felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He knew it was the fever talking, but he swore he could hear sincerity in Ryan’s voice.

“Maybe _that’s_ why the demons don’t come out,” Shane said softly.

“Maybe.”

Ryan’s eyes closed, and Shane smiled. “Call me if you need anything.”

He waited a moment, but Ryan didn’t respond. So, he picked up the remote, restarted Paddington in case Ryan woke up, then made his way back to his car.

Later that night as he laid in bed, the warmth of Sara’s bare skin radiating against his own while she slept, Ryan’s words were on a loop in his mind. _I think you’re an angel._ He hoped more than anything that Ryan’s sick brain would retain what he’d said, but knew it was doubtful.

Shane’s belief in angels mostly paralleled his belief in demons, but if they existed, he could say with certainty that Ryan Bergara would be one.


	3. Add it Up, Break it Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara and Shane had always been on the same page, but lately, it was like they weren't even in the same story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look. this one is a doozy. it’s self-indulgent and very sad and centered around shane and sara’s side of things through all of this. feel free to skip it if that bums you out. obviously nothing super important happens here, since I Will Be the Sun covered everything, it’s just a different perspective. also there's a little bit of ryan/helen in this chapter to just really twist the knife.
> 
> the concept of falling out of love is something that’s been on my mind lately and a big part of the original story i’m working on right now and that filtered over to here since i process feelings by projecting instead of actually dealing with them lmao. get your tissues ready because i actually cried writing this. sorry again to shane and sara irl, who are cute as hell and hopefully will never actually encounter this apology.
> 
> chapter title from [smoothie king](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psPnjvCew3c) by bowling for soup because i won’t leave 2005.

**INTERLUDE – SHANE & SARA**

* * *

Sara Rubin was a lot of things. A talented artist, a lover of nature, a fan of anything experimental and a proud member of the curly hair society, even if she sometimes renounced it for her job. She was smart, she knew, funny, she’d been told, and beautiful, she generally felt but sometimes doubted.

One thing Sara Rubin was not was a fucking idiot. She knew this, because to not see what was happening right in front of her, one would _have_ to be a fucking idiot. And she could see it clear as day.

She could still remember the exact moment she figured out that Shane was in love with Ryan, and once it clicked, she wasn’t sure how she’d ever been oblivious in the first place. It was at the 2015 holiday party, where she and Shane had only officially been together for a few months. She was having a blast telling her boyfriend how beautiful he looked in his makeup, and Helen seemed hellbent on getting Ryan to wear Daysha’s red lipstick. Sara was mid-conversation with Shane, Ryan, and Jen when Helen sauntered back over, her lips bright red and a sprig of mistletoe in her grip.

“If you won’t let me put on the lipstick,” she’d cooed to Ryan, “I’ll just get it on you this way. You can’t say no since it’s Christmas.”

Ryan laughed and agreed, so Helen handed the mistletoe to Shane to hold above them, and asked Sara to take a photo. Sara obliged, snapping away as Helen pressed her lips to Ryan’s, then proceeded to press lipstick kisses across his cheeks. Ryan closed his eyes and pretended to squirm away while everyone laughed. Everyone except Shane.

Once Ryan had broken free from his girlfriend’s grasp, Sara slinked away and sat down in an empty booth. She swiped through the photos she’d taken, deleting the ones that were blurry or unflattering. She was left with three viable photos: One of Helen and Ryan mid-kiss, one of Helen pressing a kiss to Ryan’s cheek and one of them both laughing, red smudges around their smiles. It was an adorable triptych, if Sara did say so herself.

As they always did, her eyes strayed to Shane, whose face was just peeking in the edge of the frame. Her heart sank. There was only one word that she could think of to describe the look plastered across Shane’s features. _Devastated_. It was a look she knew well, as she’d spent most of her college years pretending to be alright with watching a man she loved kiss another woman. There was even a picture just like this, with her in the background, slightly out of focus, looking exactly as Shane looked on the phone screen in her palm.

She could’ve ended it there. She could’ve confronted Shane about his feelings, told him she couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t all in with her. She could’ve dealt with a few awkward weeks at work before they both moved on and remained friends.

Instead, she cropped Shane out of the photos, texted them to Helen, and locked the visage of her boyfriend’s broken heart away in the back part of her brain.

She didn’t often think about it, but lately, it was becoming increasingly harder not to. Something imperceptible had changed between Shane and Ryan. Now more than ever, it felt like Shane was slipping away from her and toward him. Not only was Shane slipping, but it felt like Ryan was actively drawing him in.

Sara and Shane had always been on the same page, but lately, it was like they weren't even in the same story.

* * *

“They’re called intimacy exercises,” Dr. Murray had said during their second couple’s counseling session on an early Tuesday morning in February.

Sara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Intimacy wasn’t exactly their strong suit lately. Their recent Valentine’s Day trip had been less “romantic getaway” and more “drinking too much Prosecco then arguing in an expensive cabin and eventually agreeing on trying counseling as soon as possible.”

“Wait, like… _intimacy_ intimacy?” Shane asked, and Sara was relieved that he seemed equally uncomfortable.

“No, not intercourse,” Dr. Murray answered, and Sara blushed a bit at how easily and clinically he used the term. “Just closeness. Trust. Connection.”

“Okay,” Shane said. “So what do we do?”

Dr. Murray walked them through each of the activities he had planned. First, they would give each other compliments. Next, they would do trust falls. Finally, they would make direct eye contact for four minutes. Afterward, they would all discuss together how the exercises made them feel.

Their therapist explained how these exercises might be difficult given the state of their current connection, and that that was okay. They’d work through the problems together. The phrase _state of their connection_ planted the seed of an idea in Sara’s mind. An idea that would allow her to test the state of another connection in Shane’s life.

The exercises were, to say the least, a disaster. For some reason, when she was put on the spot, all she could call to mind were Shane’s worst traits. Everything about him that drove her crazy pushed its way to the front of her mind. Judging from how much he struggled, she was sure he was having the same problem. The trust falls didn’t result in any injury, but the amount of stumbling and near-misses made it clear that, physically, they weren’t quite as connected as they used to be.

There was a time in Sara’s life where she could’ve spent hours looking into Shane’s eyes and it still wouldn't have been enough. But here, in a coldly decorated therapist’s office, with all their turmoil laid out between them, the four minutes felt like eons of torture.

“So, how do you feel?” Dr. Murray asked when the activities concluded.

Shane and Sara looked at each other, and Sara wanted to cry.

“It could’ve gone better,” they both said in perfect unison.

They laughed, which made Shane’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and something in her heart unlocked.

“I love when your eyes do that,” she said, reaching out to gently touch his temple.

“Do what?” he asked, leaning into the touch.

“Crinkle,” she replied. “It makes you look so happy.”

“I _am_ happy.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.” Shane turned his head to kiss her palm. “I love the sound of your laugh. I know you hate it, but I love it so much.”

She grinned. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, but not in a try-hard, pretentious way. You just exude intelligence. I think you might know everything.”

“You’re so compassionate,” Shane said. “You put up your misanthropic front, but you care more deeply for the people you love than anyone I know.”

“You have amazing taste in music.”

“You’re the only person I don’t mind losing video games to.”

They beamed at each other, and Sara thought that maybe they’d be okay after all.

* * *

Sara stood behind a monitor, quietly chatting with one of the PAs about her plans for the video shoot, but her mind was only half on the conversation. The other half was rather preoccupied with the strange conversation unfolding between Ryan and Shane. As they accused her of planning to murder them on film, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Once the PA walked away, Sara snapped a quick photo of the two of them mid-laugh and posted it to her story. As she watched the photo upload and took in the smiles on their faces, she began to wonder if this was a horrible idea after all.

Regardless, she strolled over to the duo and asked, “Are you two done? And no, I’m not planning on murdering you.”

“Only because we figured you out,” Shane said with a grin

“Yeah, you got me,” she replied, trying her best to keep a straight face. “My whole career has been a long con to make my first snuff film here at BuzzFeed Motion Pictures, in broad daylight, with all these witnesses and after posting an Instagram story about filming with you two.”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Ryan said, and Sara felt her heart constrict a bit when Shane winked at him.

“Can we get on with the video now?” she asked, trying to make the annoyance in her voice seem feigned.

Both of the men in front of her simultaneously replied, “Yes.”

“Great.” She looked directly at Shane and said, “So, the actual title of the video is Guy Friends Try Intimacy Exercises.”

Shane’s face blanched, and Sara knew exactly why. As she continued to talk, she could tell he had the same thought she did: That this was going to go _much_ better than it had in therapy. And Sara would have it all on film. Maybe, she thought, this would finally get Shane to admit what she was pretending she didn’t already know.

Filming was more difficult than she anticipated. The ease she and Shane had once had together was now found in his and Ryan’s actions. But even so, there was an effortlessness between them that she didn’t think she and Shane had _ever_ had. They seemed to orbit around each other, moving and speaking simultaneously, without even having to consult the other. Telepathy, as their coworkers so often teased. It was something Sara had always been aware of, but watching it play out so blatantly in front of her was shocking, somehow.

“That’s four,” Sara said, signaling them to break their minutes of eye contact. Neither of them broke the gaze. “So… you can look away.”

They looked away and straightened up, neither seeming to realize how close in they’d leaned to each other, or how soft the smiles on their faces looked.

“That was intense,” she heard Shane say.

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed.

Her face hardened.

* * *

“Sara,” Shane said at the exact moment she exited the studio, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She turned to see him leaning against the wall by the door, his face unreadable. “Jesus! How long have you been there?”

“Like ten minutes,” he said. “Aria texted me that the shoot was almost done. Can I talk to you?”

“Can it wait?”

“Not really.”

She sighed and let him lead her into the empty library set. It was painfully ironic, she thought, that they were about to have this discussion in a place he and Ryan so often shared.

“What the fuck?” Shane asked simply once they were alone.

“What the fuck what?” she replied, feigning ignorance.

“You know what,” Shane spat back. “What the fuck was the point of that video?”

She shrugged. “We’ve been talking about making more content focusing on masculinity and male friendship, and when Dr. Murray had us do the exercises, it seemed like a good video idea. I pitched it at our production meeting, and it was a hit. So, here we are.”

Shane pursed his lips. “Why’d you ask me to be in it?”

“You’re always good for views,” she said, trying to force nonchalance. “And I thought it might be fun.”

“Fun? To relive…” he trailed off. “Why’d you ask me to do it with Ryan?”

“Because you’re _Shaneandryan_. If I’d paired you up with anyone else, every comment would’ve been, ‘Where’s Ryan?’”

“Still,” he insisted. “That was so…”

“So what, Shane?” she asked. He didn’t answer, so she decided to challenge him. “Why were you _uncomfortable_ doing the _intimacy_ exercises from our _couple’s_ counseling with _Ryan_ in front of _me_?”

“Because…”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Shane stayed silent.

“Whatever,” she mumbled. “I have to stay late tonight, so just take an Uber home.”

She turned on her heel and walked away.

* * *

Months passed.

Their foundation seemed to fissure and crack more and more each day, no matter how many times they tried to repair it. Every step forward was met with two steps back. Sharing a life became a chore. A tense silence hung over their apartment like a thundercloud, and Sara didn’t know what would happen when the lightning struck.

Eventually, she realized that all their common ground had crumbled into a canyon between them, so she decided to make one last try for the heart that had once felt inseparable from hers. With her last shreds of hope, she risked it all and built a bridge. All Shane had to do was cross it, and they could start anew.

* * *

Something was up. Shane wasn’t sure what, but _something_ was up.

For the first time in months, Sara seemed… excited. There was a small grin on her face as she ate her dinner across from Shane, despite the lack of conversation. They eventually moved to the couch, where they put on an episode of TNG, and sat, again, in silence. Sara’s grin remained.

“What?” Shane asked eventually.

“Huh?” Sara answered, looking over at him.

“What’s up with you? What aren’t you telling me?”

She smiled. “I have some news.”

“Good news?”

Sara nodded.

“What is it?”

“Well…” Sara said, looking down at her lap.

They repositioned to face each other, and Sara folded her hands over her torso. Shane’s blood froze in his veins.

“Oh my God, are you pregnant?” he asked, cringing internally at the horror saturating his words.

“What?” she sputtered, looking back at him. “No! I’m not pregnant!”

“But you just…” Shane gestured to where her hands were clasped against her stomach.

“Oh!” she said, quickly undoing them and laying her palms against her thighs. “No, I just… I don’t know. Did that. I’m not… No.”

“Okay,” Shane said, feeling his pulse return to a normal speed.

Sara paused. “Would that have been such a bad thing, though?”

A moment too late, Shane said, “No. It just… would’ve been a shock.”

“A bad shock?”

“I don’t know, Sara. It just wasn’t what I was expecting you to be telling me, is all. You caught me off guard.”

“But why did you look so _scared_?” she pressed.

“Does it matter?”

“I mean, kind of.”

Shane sighed. “Are you really getting mad at me right now for not being elated about a _hypothetical baby_?”

“No, but–”

“Are you gonna call up Dr. Murray?” Shane continued. “Tell him all about how I didn’t immediately start weeping with joy because you’re _not_ pregnant?”

“Don’t you fucking use him against me,” Sara snapped. “We go to counseling together, Shane. We could stop any time you wanted.”

They stared at each other for a long time, and the tension in the air was palpable.

“How did that happen?” Sara asked eventually with a defeated sigh. “I said I have _good_ news, and we turned it into an argument.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane said, the words well-practiced. “I should’ve let you speak without assuming.”

“Apology accepted, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for not immediately being excited. A baby _would_ be a shock, and it’s understandable that you were thrown for a loop, especially since there’s no actual baby.”

“Apology accepted.” A beat of silence. “The good news?”

Sara's grin returned. “Right! Okay. So. Lately, I’ve been feeling really… stuck. Creatively. I feel like I’m not doing anything that excites me, so everything I’m making feels boring, and it’s a really shitty rabbit hole.”

“I figured,” Shane said. “You’ve definitely seemed off your game.”

“Yeah. So, I was looking around at jobs, thinking about maybe leaving BuzzFeed and starting somewhere new.”

“Is that what all those secret phone calls have been about?”

She gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah. And I actually got offered a really cool job.”

“That’s great!” Shane enthused. “Where?”

“Niantic,” Sara answered.

“Niantic?”

“They’re a game development company.”

“Why does that sound familiar?” Shane asked.

“Because they did Pokémon Go.”

“That’s it!” Shane said. “Holy shit, Sara, that’s major.”

“I know, right? I kind of can’t believe it.”

“What would you be doing?”

“I’d be part of their graphics team,” she said. “They’re looking to incorporate more hand-drawn art into something new they’re developing, so I’d really get to focus on that. From what they’ve told me, it’d be a lot more creative freedom than I have right now.”

“That’s so cool,” Shane said, and he meant it. He hadn’t seen Sara this enthusiastic in months.

“It’s a lot more responsibility as well, but the pay is way better. We could for sure afford a bigger place.”

Shane liked their current apartment plenty, but he wouldn’t complain about more space. “So are you gonna accept it?”

“I already did,” Sara said, but her grin fell a bit.

“What’s wrong?”

“Um. There’s just one… thing.”

“What’s the thing?” Shane asked carefully.

Sara took a deep breath. “It’s in San Francisco.”

“What?”

“The job. It’s in San Francisco. And I accepted it.”

“You’re…” Shane mumbled. He felt a bit dizzy. “You’re moving to San Francisco?”

“Well, I was kind of hoping _we_ would move to San Francisco. I actually found us a place to live. It’s an entire top floor of a gorgeous row house.”

Shane could barely process what she was saying. “You want me to leave LA?”

“Yes.”

“And move to San Francisco?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

“How long is the job?” Shane asked.

Sara cocked her head. “Huh?”

“We could make long distance work until you came back,” Shane said. “San Francisco’s not too far.”

“Shane, it’s not some internship,” Sara said, her tone sharp. “It’s a job. I’m not coming back.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so sick of Los Angeles. I can’t  _ be _ here anymore. It’s toxic here, Shane. For me and for us. If we did long distance, it’d just be wasting money to fly back and forth until one of us broke and couldn’t do it anymore.”

Shane frowned. “You’re right.”

“So, will you come with me?”

“I have to decide right now?”

“Well, I leave on Friday, so.”

“Friday?!” Shane’s head began to spin.

Sara nodded. “Are you coming?”

Eventually, Shane choked out, “I can’t.”

She pursed her lips. “Why not?”

“Why _not_?” Shane echoed. “Sara, I have so much shit going on at work right now. I can’t just abandon it all.”

“No, I know,” she said. “I figured you could finish up what you’ve got going on then join me. I’ve got enough saved up that I could afford the rent on my own for a few months, and I know you’d be able to manage this place on your own for a little bit.”

“Finish up?” Shane repeated again, apparently incapable of forming his own words. “I can’t just _finish up_ Unsolved right now, and I’ve got a new season of Ruining History filming next month.”

“Yeah, _next month_ ,” Sara said, ignoring what he’d said about Unsolved. “You could move up by like, September, probably.”

“I can’t leave in September. That’s when we start filming the next season of True Crime.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you started it already.”

Shane shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re…” She paused, bit her lip, then continued with, “Replaceable. You don’t have to be in it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ryan would understand if you had to leave,” Sara said. “He’s done it without you before, and you could still film Supernatural the rest of the summer, so that’s months of content.”

“But that was before it was a _thing_ ,” Shane argued. “He couldn’t replace me now.”

“I’m sure he’d manage.”

“I mean, okay, yeah, probably.” Shane took a deep breath. “Look, I understand being in a creative rut. I’ve been there. But I’m not there right now. I don’t _want_ to leave Unsolved.”

“Do you not want to leave Unsolved?” Sara asked. “Or do you not want to leave Ryan?”

“What?”

Sara didn’t speak, but she didn’t have to. Shane could see exactly what she meant written across her face. She _knew_. There was no use hiding it anymore.

“Ryan,” Shane said eventually. “I don’t want to leave Ryan.”

Sara exhaled, and Shane hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath. “But you’re fine leaving me?”

“I’m…” Shane trailed off.

Sara threaded her fingers through Shane’s and let their hands rest against her knee. Shane looked at her, and the single tear that trickled down her cheek tore him in two.

“Don’t you love me?” she asked, and Shane had never heard anyone sound so small.

“Of course I do,” Shane replied. “But I think I love him, too.”

She laughed once, devoid of humor, and Shane knew his feigned self-doubt was a mistake. “You think?”

“I know I do. I… I love him, Sara.”

She nodded. “I know you do, too.”

Shane was a bit taken aback. “How long have you known?”

“The holiday party a few years ago,” she replied. “When you guys were wearing makeup for that Test Friends video. Remember how you held up the mistletoe for him and Helen?”

Shane remembered it well, so he nodded.

“Yeah, well, when I was looking back at the pictures I took of them kissing, I saw your face, and you looked… fucking devastated. You looked _so_ upset. And I just… knew.”

“Jesus,” he mumbled. “That’s a long time.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“So why’d you stay with me?”

She shrugged. “I liked you _so_ much, Shane. I kind of couldn’t believe we were actually dating. I didn’t want to break up with you before we even had a real shot. And we hadn’t been together long at that point, so I thought maybe you’d get over him and love me instead.”

“I _do_ love you,” Shane stressed. “Not instead, but… I do.”

“I know. But how much do you love him?”

“How... ” Shane paused. “Sara, it’s not really something I can quantify.”

“More than me?” she persisted.

“It’s apples to oranges,” Shane insisted.

“Try.”

Shane thought for a long time, then said, “Enough to stay here if you leave.”

Sara slid her hand out of Shane’s, then they were silent.

“So that’s it?” Sara asked eventually.

“I think so.”

“You’re really gonna stay here with him? Instead of moving with your girlfriend?”

Shane didn’t answer.

“Does he even feel the same way? Like, have you guys talked about it?” Sara’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, wait, are you guys already together?”

“No!” Shane said quickly. “No, we’re not… I’m not cheating on you. I didn’t, ever. And we haven’t talked about it. But I just… feel like he feels the same way. There’s something different lately.”

“And yet, you stayed with me.”

“I didn’t want to lose both of you if I was wrong,” Shane admitted, and hearing himself say it out loud hurt more than he’d expected it would. “It was easier to keep everything the way it was.”

Sara closed her eyes for a moment. “That’s really shitty, Shane.”

“I know.”

“Like, that’s _really_ shitty.”

“I _know_ ,” he repeated. “I’ve felt like a monster for months. Every time I hurt you, I wanted to punch myself in the face. But I was scared.”

She smiled softly, despite everything. “I thought you didn’t get scared.”

“I guess I do sometimes.”

She stood up and looked back down at him, and Shane couldn’t help but feel like he was making some sort of massive mistake.

“So…” she said. “I guess I’ll go stay somewhere else tonight.”

“No,” Shane argued, standing up as well. “I’ll go. You stay. Get your things together.”

Leveling a glare at him, Sara asked, “Where exactly are you planning on going?”

Shane didn’t have to tell her.

“You stay,” she repeated. “I can’t be here alone, knowing you’re with him. I just… I can’t.”

“Okay,” Shane said, then sat back down.

Sara didn’t move. Instead, she looked Shane in the eye and asked, very quietly, “What the hell happened to us, Shane?”

He didn’t know what to say.

“Was I not good enough for you?”

Shane reached out to take her hand, but she pulled it away. “Sara, you’re the best. It’s not about what you’re _not_.”

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t get over him.” Her voice broke, but she continued. “All these fucking years with me, everything we had, and the whole time, you somehow still had feelings for him.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane said simply.

He wanted to say more, wanted to reassure her again that he really did love her and that everything they’d had was real and good and memories he’d always treasure, and that his feelings for Ryan occupied a separate part of him, not detracting from her at all. But he knew it would only be twisting the knife.

She frowned. “I was sure I’d marry you. From the first time you kissed me, I was _so_ sure.”

“I was, too,” Shane said, and he felt tears well in his eyes. He blinked them back. “I’m so sorry.”

Sara took a deep breath, then said, “Okay. Last chance. I’ll forget everything you just said. We can move on, just you and me. We’ll start over, get away from everything that’s causing all these fucking problems between us.”

“I don’t want to get away from them,” Shane said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Them?”

“Him.”

Without another word, Sara leaned down and pressed a long kiss to Shane’s forehead. He could feel hot tears spill from her eyes and trickle against his skin. Then, she grabbed her bag, keys and walked out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congrats if you made it through this godforsaken mountain of angst.


	4. Finally Happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next moments seemed to happen in slow motion. Shane looked down at Ryan, still outfitted in his pajamas, leaning on his shoulder against the wall by the door. The grin on his face was wistful, like he already missed Shane despite the fact that he hadn’t yet left. Ryan walking him to the door and seeing him off to work was so simple but somehow so caring and domestic that Shane’s reaction was practically involuntary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick little vignette for ya.

**THE FIRST KISS – SHANE’S POV**

* * *

Shane had always been a morning person. His childhood love for cereal and Saturday cartoons morphed into a teenage proclivity for doing his homework over breakfast. College brought early classes, and adulthood regularly found him enjoying a cup of coffee and whatever Good Day news show the nearest metropolis had to offer him.

He especially loved sharing mornings. Waking up next to someone, making them breakfast and the slow conversation as the sleepy fog faded from their minds was his favorite part of any relationship. There was a softness and vulnerability to the whole thing that always managed to light up his heart.

As much as he feigned annoyance at Unsolved’s overnight investigations, the reward of waking up beside Ryan, if the other man fell asleep at all, was worth the hassle of strapping a GoPro to his chest and listening to a shrieking radio while the rest of the surrounding population slept soundly. Once he got lucky enough to start spending mornings with Ryan off camera and in a habitable apartment, he grew to love them – both mornings in general and the man himself – even more.

One morning in late August had started off fairly innocuous. Shane rose before Ryan and snuck off to the bathroom to shower and get dressed, then shuffled into the kitchen. Ryan had managed to keep his fridge stocked, much to Shane’s delight, and he was having fun making them extravagant breakfasts on the weekends. However, since it was Thursday, he stuck to coffee and fairly basic omelettes.

About ten minutes after he’d started cooking, he heard Ryan’s bedroom door open followed by soft footfalls moving toward the kitchen. Shane couldn’t help but smile.

“Morning,” he said, turning to look at a bespectacled, messy-haired and bleary-eyed Ryan. “Eggs are almost ready.”

“Thanks,” Ryan replied, then leaned against the counter next to him. “Coffee?”

“Should still be hot.”

They went about their morning routine, eating and chatting away. Ryan asked what Shane had in store for the day, Shane asked if Ryan he’d had any strange dreams. There was something about the morning that felt imperceptibly different than the rest. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they’d spent the last weekend apart and the resulting awkwardness that had finally been resolved the previous night, but Shane felt closer to Ryan than ever.

It felt real. It felt like Shane could lean over and kiss Ryan, and like Ryan would kiss back.

 _No_ , he thought. _Let Ryan make the first move._ Shane wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny, but from the day they’d met, there was something about Ryan Bergara that felt like an inevitability. When it was meant to happen, it would happen, he was sure. But he _really_ hoped it would happen soon.

“You’re _sure_ you’ll be fine without me at the meeting on Friday?” Ryan asked as they walked toward the front door.

Shane rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, Ryan, yes.”

“I can drive back to LA for it if you want,” Ryan offered.

Shane knew it wasn’t that Ryan didn’t trust him. The man was just compulsively terrified for the worst, despite Unsolved’s success.

“Don’t do that. I know you’re pissed it got rescheduled to your vacation, but it’ll be fine. They’re not gonna cancel Unsolved. We’re bigger than ever.”

“I know,” Ryan said. “But I’m not me if I’m not terrified for the worst.”

Shane smiled as Ryan’s words mirrored his thoughts. Maybe they really  _did_ have the telepathic connection they were so often teased for.

“It’ll be fine,” Shane assured him. “I’ll text you the good news the second the meeting is over.”

Relief flooded Ryan’s features. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve gotta go.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

The next moments seemed to happen in slow motion. Shane looked down at Ryan, still outfitted in his pajamas, leaning on his shoulder against the wall by the door. The grin on his face was wistful, like he already missed Shane despite the fact that he hadn’t yet left. Ryan walking him to the door and seeing him off to work was so simple but somehow so caring and domestic that Shane’s reaction was practically involuntary.

Shane leaned down, gave Ryan a kiss goodbye, and then walked out the door.

As soon as the latch clicked behind him, Shane froze. He’d just kissed Ryan. He wasn’t supposed to kiss Ryan. He was supposed to wait. What if Ryan was freaking out? What if Shane knocked on the door but Ryan never opened it for him again?

He turned on his heel and raised his fist to knock, only to find the door already opening. And there was Ryan, his eyes blown wide and an enormous grin on his face. Shane felt the adrenaline from his intense momentary panic melt into lust.

He slowly and deliberately reached forward, slid Ryan’s glasses down his nose, gently folded the arms and placed them on the small table next to the door. The last thing they needed right now was a potential hazard.

The silence between them seemed to stretch for eons as Shane stood completely still, gripped by half a decade of anticipation finally coming to fruition. The events of the last few months replayed in his mind; every look, every conversation, every laugh, every night spent lying in bed, their faces inches apart. His heart started to race.

Then Ryan whispered his name, the sound barely above an exhale, and Shane knew. He knew Ryan felt the same way. He knew that if he leaned forward and kissed Ryan again, it would change everything for the better.

So he did.

His hands gripped Ryan’s hips through his sweatpants, thumbs digging into the hard muscle there, and Shane relished in how different it felt from women he’d touched. Ryan’s hands threaded through his hair, holding him in place, as if Ryan were scared he’d pull away.

They started walking backward, and Shane wasn’t even sure who moved first, but the soft gasp Ryan let out when his back hit a wall ran through him like a lightning bolt. He slid his tongue past Ryan’s lips, and chills ran down his spine as Ryan’s palm moved from his scalp to the side of his neck.

It wasn’t enough. Shane needed  _more_. He moved his hands up and under the hem of Ryan’s shirt, then wrapped his fingers around the other man’s waist. Ryan’s skin was hot and smooth, and Shane felt goosebumps spring up under his tight grip. Ryan made a small noise in the back of his throat, and Shane felt the hand in his hair pull him closer.

And then it was  _too much_. Shane’s eyes flew open and his breathing stopped. All his senses were on fire; the blurry sight of Ryan’s closed eyes mere inches from his, the feel of Ryan’s warm skin under his hand, the soft sound Ryan couldn’t seem to stop making, the smell of Ryan’s shampoo and the lingering taste of coffee on their tongues.

Shane pulled back, and he could feel his entire body trembling, just a bit.

“What?” Ryan asked, slowly opening his eyes. “Shane, what are you doing?”

 _Humor_ , his brain supplied immediately. _Be funny. Don’t tell him how long you’ve wanted this. Don’t freak him out._

Shane gave Ryan a well-practiced smirk. “I have to go to work.”

“No,” Ryan replied immediately, twisting his hand in Shane’s shirt. “Call in late.”

There was nothing Shane wanted more than to give in to the request, but he didn’t trust himself to be around Ryan for much longer without blurting out the L-word.

“That would be wildly irresponsible,” Shane intoned. “We should be on our best behavior if we’ve got a meeting about Unsolved’s future on Friday, shouldn’t we?”

Ryan grinned, and Shane could tell it was involuntary. “Oh, you dick. Don’t use that against me.”

“I’m just being pragmatic,” Shane replied, smiling back.

“Fuck pragmatism,” Ryan spat. “This is finally happening and now you want to leave?”

“Finally happening?” Shane echoed. _Finally. He’s been waiting for this, too._

“Don’t you play coy right now, you son of a bitch,” Ryan said.

Shane laughed softly. “Ryan, I am so glad this is finally happening.”

“Me too,” Ryan said, and Shane’s heart lit up. “Kiss me again.”

“I will,” Shane replied, leaning down so his lips barely touched Ryan’s, inviting him to move forward. “On Monday.”

Ryan wrapped a hand around the back of Shane’s neck and pressed their lips together, and Shane couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. The last shreds of irrational doubt that Ryan didn’t feel the same way he did faded into oblivion.

“I really should get to work,” Shane said eventually, his lips still pressed to Ryan’s.

“Fine,” Ryan said with a sigh as he pulled back.

They walked back to the front door in silence, then Shane leaned down to kiss Ryan one more time.

“See you Monday,” Shane said.

“See you,” Ryan replied.

Shane managed to keep it together as he walked away from Ryan’s doorway, stood in the elevator and strolled through the small parking lot outside Ryan’s building. As soon as his car door clicked behind him, Shane lost his mind.

A smile split his face in two, and he beat the steering wheel with a closed fist while he literally bounced up and down in his seat.

“Fuck!” he yelled, still smiling wide. He yelled again, this time just an incoherent noise, and couldn’t help but feel like some sort of lovestruck teenage girl.

Ryan. He’d just kissed _Ryan_ , and _Ryan_ had _kissed him back_. Ryan wanted to kiss him  _again_ , and apparently had wanted to for long enough to constitute a _finally_. Shane had never felt more goddamn elated. It was literally, he thought to himself, a dream come true.

From here on out, nothing would be the same. Shane couldn’t wait.

When he finally calmed down, he looked around, feeling embarrassed. Thankfully, he didn’t think anyone saw his little outburst, and if they did, they didn’t stick around long enough for him to notice.

“Ah, shit,” he mumbled, glancing at his watch. He was going to be at least twenty minutes late to work, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Shane started the car, causing the radio to turn on, and his smile grew even wider as Daryl Hall’s voice filled the car.

> _Wrap yourself around me_  
>  _‘Cause I ain't the way you found me_  
>  _And I'll never be the same, oh yeah  
>  _ _Well ‘cause you  
>  _ _You make my dreams come true_

“Oh, this is so fucking stupid,” Shane said to himself as he reversed out of his parking space. He reached out to turn up the volume, then shifted the car into drive. “I love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU x1000000 to the brilliant and amazing real-life lindsay who is not only the namesake of the fictional lindsay in this fic, but also immediately replied with [you make my dreams by hall and oates](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kY27wmTZwyg) when i asked her what song should be playing on the radio in shane’s car since i couldn’t think of anything. it was the perfect choice and i am indebted to her forever.


	5. Treat Yourself Tonight to a Little Love Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shane Madej,” Ryan said as he opened the door. “Welcome to your Perfect Day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there’s a link later in this chapter. if, when you get to the link, you don’t know what the thing is, please click the link. it just goes to a picture and it’ll contextualize things much better.
> 
> also they’re going to listen to lcd soundsystem’s _american dream_ which i listened to on repeat almost the entire time i was writing this for the Vibe™ and i suggest you keep that up while you read it. [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrc1zGEPPmg&list=PLh_TeswTk7TSNLSJRs4psQpaaCCsLaYZr) is a youtube playlist. it’s an extremely good album by an extremely good band and it’s what shane would want, both in this fic [and irl](https://www.instagram.com/p/BlHWD1fAtt9/?taken-by=saraerubin). the chapter title is from [emotional haircut](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1R7E3dcK4I).

**DELETED SCENE – SHANE’S PERFECT DAY**

* * *

Ryan carefully lifted a waffle out of the waffle iron and set it on top of the unnecessarily large stack he’d been building for the last half hour. He was glad he’d remembered to grab the iron before leaving his apartment, otherwise Shane’s Perfect Day would’ve been off to a disappointing start.

He checked his phone again as he laid foil over the waffles in an attempt to keep them warm. Still, nothing from Shane, even though it was just past 11AM.

“Weird,” he said out loud to the empty apartment. “He’s usually up by now on Saturdays.”

Ryan sat down at the small table in his friend’s kitchen, then opened the YouTube app on his phone. _Couples Try 36 Questions to Fall In Love_ sat right at the top of his watch history. He tapped on the video and quickly scrubbed to the segment he was looking for.

 _What would constitute a perfect day for you?_ faded in over a swirling red background, and a voice he recognized as Megan read the question out loud.

Then-Ryan appeared on screen and gave his answer, and now-Ryan laughed as the video cut to a clip of the two of them at Knott’s Berry Farm, each on the opposite end of a two-foot sausage. When he was done speaking, the shot cut to Shane, who gave the answer Ryan had listened to at least a hundred times in the past week.

_“Okay. It’s me and you. We wake up at, like, noon. Waffles just appear in our kitchen. We eat them and they’re incredible and we’re listening to LCD Soundsystem but you’re not complaining about it. We watch all the Mission: Impossible films simultaneously, but in a way that we can parse them and it makes sense somehow. Then we play D &D with a few of my pals but you’re actually, like, good at it and take it seriously, unlike that one time I tried to get you to play. The pals leave and we eat an unholy amount of hot dogs for dinner. Like good, ballpark ones, no boiled grocery store shit. But there’s no consequences. Our stomachs can take it. Also, there’s a pool in the backyard somehow and we swim in it for a while after the sun has gone down, but no bugs are attracted to the light. We, uh… you know. And it’s great. Then we go to sleep and we each get like a solid twelve hours of rest.”_

Ryan ran through his mental checklist as Shane spoke. Waffles were taken care of. LCD Soundsystem’s latest album was saved on Spotify. All six Mission: Impossible films were in the living room. Dungeons & Dragons was… not quite lined up, but he had an alternative. The fridge was full of hot dogs. And for the next 48 hours, they had Ryan’s friend’s apartment – and most importantly, the apartment complex’s pool – all to themselves.

“Oh God,” Ryan said, pausing the video as he asked no one in particular, “Wait, is this too much?”

The resounding silence of the empty apartment began to close in on him.

 _No_ , he thought. _You’re doing a nice thing for your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who loves you. You’re not gonna scare him off. It’s gonna be fine._

Before Ryan could worry more, his phone finally rang. He smiled as he slid the call open.

“Good morning, sleepy,” Ryan said, his voice too chipper even in his own ears.

“Oh, thank fucking God,” Shane said with a sigh.

“Huh?”

“I’m so glad you’re alive.”

Ryan laughed. “I’m glad you’re alive too?”

“No, I thought you got, like, Taken. I was ready to find Liam Neeson.”

“What? Why?”

Shane sighed. “I woke up to an empty apartment, your keys and car gone and a scrawled note on the fridge that just said, ‘Call if you want to find me.’”

“Jesus, when you lay it out like _that_ ,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes at himself. “It does sound kind of kidnap-y, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, Ryan, it does.”

Ryan smiled. “Well, I’m not kidnapped. I’m getting something ready.”

“What?”

“I said, I’m getting something ready.”

“No, I heard you. I meant _what_ are you getting ready.”

“Man, we’re really not on the same page so far,” Ryan said with a laugh.

“Deflecting?”

“No,” Ryan said. “It’s a surprise. When you’re ready to leave the house, text me and I’ll call you an Uber.”

Ryan could practically hear Shane’s eyebrows raise. “Are _you_ kidnapping _me_?”

“Yeah, Shane, that’s been the plan since day one. Get you in an Uber to Deathsville.”

“Deathsville?!” Shane repeated. “Jesus, Ry, I thought you’d just hold me for ransom, not murder me.”

“Well, if your family can’t afford my hundred mil ransom, then I’m gonna have to murder you.”

Shane laughed. “How the fuck do we always end up at one of us dead?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan answered, laughing too.

“Do I need to bring anything with me?”

“Just the duffle I left by the front door.”

There was a pause, and Ryan assumed Shane was looking toward the door to find the bag. “I see it. Should I eat?”

“No. I have food.”

“Is it poisoned?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Then call the Uber now. I’ll take my chances.”

“Will do,” Ryan said. “See you soon.”

“Love you.”

Ryan grinned. “Love you, too.”

As he hung up the call, Ryan took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Game face.”

He called Shane an Uber, then set about putting the final touches on the apartment. He hooked his phone up to the Bluetooth speakers and put on American Dream, which he didn’t hate nearly as much as he pretended to on their long car rides, back when he spent most of his time antagonizing Shane. He smiled to himself, realizing again how much _effort_ he had put into garnering Shane’s attention before he even knew the reason why he felt so compelled to. He bopped his head to the electronic beat until James Murphy’s voice began to spill out of the speakers, and Ryan clicked the volume down to something a bit more ambient.

He set about plating his waffles, taking care to drizzle the syrup just right. Shane wasn’t particularly one to Instagram his food, but Ryan wanted it to look worthy of the possibility. After a painstaking amount of effort, he laid foil back over them, trapping in the last of the warmth. His phone rang again.

“You here?”

“I’m here,” Shane replied, then asked, “Where exactly am I?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan answered, hoping Shane could hear his grin. “Buzz apartment 210 then come on up.”

“Is that where the assassin is waiting?”

“Assassins, actually. I don’t expect you to go down without a fight.”

“Assassins,” Shane repeated with a laugh. “Got it. Tell them the eagle has landed or whatever.”

“Eagle?” Ryan scoffed. “More like ostrich. Or penguin. Definitely not eagle.”

Shane huffed. “Rude.”

“See you in a few.”

“See ya.”

The door buzzed, and Ryan let Shane in the building. He stood by the front door, bouncing on the balls of his feet until he heard a cautious knock at the door.

“Shane Madej,” he said as he opened the door. “Welcome to your Perfect Day.”

Shane stood in the doorway, his hair still tousled from sleep, glasses perched on his nose. “Huh?” he asked, adjusting the duffle on his shoulder.

“Your Perfect Day,” Ryan repeated, nervous again that it was too much.

Then, Shane smiled. “From the video we did with Annie?”

“Yup,” Ryan replied. “Come on in.”

Shane followed Ryan into the apartment and asked, “So, is this an Airbnb, or…?”

“No, it’s my friend’s place, remember?” Ryan answered as they both sat down on the couch. “I ran into his girlfriend last week, and I asked her if we could come over and use the pool. She asked why, and I explained this whole plan, then she was like, ‘Well, we’re going out of town soon, you guys could come over for a weekend as long as you feed my fish, that way my sister won’t have to do it.’”

“So we get this place all weekend?”

“Yep. They’re not back ‘til Monday night.”

“Sweet.”

“They just made me promise we won’t have sex in their bed.”

Shane frowned. “Oh.”

“We’re gonna, though,” Ryan clarified with a smile.

Shane dropped the duffle to the floor. “Right now?”

“I mean, we could. But the waffles I made might get cold.”

“Oh, then waffles,” Shane said immediately as he pushed up off the couch.

“Nice to see where your priorities lie,” Ryan replied, standing up as well.

“Ry, you _just_ said we have all weekend and you didn’t let me eat before I came here. If there’s waffles in this apartment, I want them right now.”

Ryan laughed. “Follow me.”

As they walked toward the kitchen, Ryan restarted the album he’d been playing earlier, then looked back at Shane.

“LCD Soundsystem?” Shane asked, his eyes bright.

“And I’m not even gonna complain about it. Go ahead and sit down, I’ll bring you your food.”

“I love this already,” Shane said, following the orders.

“Good,” Ryan replied as he carried their food to the table. He set the plates down and sat opposite Shane. “Bon appétit.”

“Merci beaucoup,” Shane replied, then immediately shoved a bite of waffle into his mouth.

Ryan smiled, then said, “I don’t know any more French,” before digging in himself.

“‘De rien’ is you’re welcome,” Shane said through a mouthful of food, then swallowed before continuing. “But who cares. Ryan, these are so good.”

“Really?”

“Totally.” Shane devoured another bite. “I’m so glad I taught you how to cook.”

Ryan laughed. “Same.”

Shane was clearly ravenous, and Ryan didn’t realize how hungry he was until he’d started eating, so they finished their breakfast mostly in silence.

“Any more?” Ryan asked after Shane finished his second helping.

“I want more, but it might kill me,” Shane answered. “And I don’t think my Perfect Day involved dying.”

“It did not,” Ryan confirmed. “But do you remember what it involved next?”

Shane thought for a moment. “I recall saying I wanted to watch every Mission: Impossible all at once.”

“Bingo,” Ryan replied. “But since that’s not possible, I brought all six DVDs. I figure we can watch one now, and one after the next thing.”

“What was the next thing again?” Shane asked.

“You’ll find out after the movie. Which one are we watching?”

“The first one,” Shane said, not even having to think about it.

“And the second one later?” Ryan asked.

Shane scoffed. “Is that a _fucking_ joke? We’re not watching MI2 on my Perfect Day. That would ruin it.”

“Okay,” Ryan said with a soft laugh. “You can choose later.”

They walked over to the couch, and Ryan dug the first Mission: Impossible out of the bag he’d left there.

“Are you gonna make popcorn?” Shane asked as Ryan placed the disc in the DVD player.

“I already did. It’s on the kitchen counter. I covered it with a towel.”

“Sneaky,” Shane said. “I’ll go grab it. Drinks?”

“There’s sodas in the fridge. They said we can help ourselves.”

“Nice. Coke?”

“Please.”

As he walked over to the fridge, it occurred to Ryan that Shane would see the hot dogs he’d begrudgingly bought for later. (And he thought again that the one thing he’d never forgive Shane was ruining his love for the occasional hot dog.) Rather than trying to avert the crisis, he decided it didn’t matter, since Shane was the one who’d planned this day in the first place.

“Is that our dinner?” Shane asked, walking back toward the couch with the popcorn and two cans of Coke in tow.

“It is,” Ryan answered. “There’s a grill out by the pool, and I got that weird mustard you like.”

Shane grinned as they both sat down on the couch, then passed off Ryan’s soda.

“Ready?” Ryan asked, pointing the remote at the television in front of them.

“Fire it up.”

They settled into the couch after Ryan pressed play, the bowl of popcorn balanced between their laps and Shane’s arm around Ryan’s shoulders. Ryan found himself watching Shane rather than the film itself, enamored by the unending amusement on Shane’s features. No matter how many times Shane had seen this film – and Ryan knew the count was probably in the double digits – he was always enthralled, and Ryan couldn’t have been any more endeared.

“God, that movie’s so fucking great,” Shane said when the credits rolled.

“I know, dude.”

“It’s _so_ great,” Shane repeated. “I swear, I could talk about it for hours.”

“Do you want to? It wasn’t in the plan but it’s your day.”

“Nah,” Shane said, waving a dismissive hand. “Because D&D’s next, right?”

“Sort of,” Ryan replied with a grimace.

“Sort of?”

Ryan took a deep breath. “Well, okay, look. When you were in the shower one night, I went into your Facebook Messenger and found the group chat you have with your D&D crew, then I made my own group chat with them and explained the whole situation. I tried really hard to make it work, but none of them were free today.”

“You _hacked_ me?”

“For a good cause!”

“I’ll allow it. But how does the ‘sort of’ come into play?”

“I thought maybe just you and I could play D&D?” Ryan asked. “I found your dice and put them in your duffle. I don’t know if we’d need anything else, though.”

Shane gave him a soft smile. “You don’t really _get_ D &D, do you?”

“I mean, I’ve seen Stranger Things, but other than that…”

“Well, I really do appreciate the effort,” Shane said. “Should we watch another movie?”

“If you want to, but I do have a backup plan.” Shane raised his eyebrows, so Ryan asked. “Where are you always trying to get me to go with you, but I never want to?”

Shane thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “The LACMA?”

“The LACMA.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously! If nothing else, I figure [Urban Light](https://collections.lacma.org/node/214966) will make a dope Instagram post.”

Shane laughed. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me.”

“I do. I’ll even take the picture for you as long as you don’t complain that you’re bored.”

“No complaints,” Ryan promised. “That’s part of the deal.”

“Good,” Shane said. “Because I promise, it won’t be boring.”

Ryan didn’t agree, but he kept it to himself.

Shane was granted DJ privileges on the drive to the museum, a rare occurrence as a passenger in Ryan Bergara’s car, but Ryan was happy to surrender. He vaguely recognized the music although he couldn’t quite place it, but he appreciated the acoustic vibe much more than the electronica from earlier in the day.

Once they reached the museum itself, Ryan made good on his promise to not complain. However, he was surprised by how easy a promise it was to keep. Despite his usual boredom with the LACMA and museums in general, being there with Shane was an entirely different experience. Letting the man he loved lead him around, enthusing about his favorite pieces and reveling in new installations, it was nearly impossible for Ryan to not get swept up in his excitement.

“I hope you’re not too bored by all this,” Shane said off hand as they finished up their lunch in the museum café.

“Are you kidding me?” Ryan asked. “This is incredible, man.”

“Really?”

“Totally! I wish I’d come here with you sooner.”

Shane laughed once. “Okay, no need to oversell it, Ry.”

“I’m serious. I think you know more than the tour guides. It’s nuts.”

“Docents,” Shane corrected lightly.

“Whatever. I love this.”

The smile on Shane’s face warmed Ryan’s heart all over again.

“I’m glad,” he said, then dropped his crumpled napkin onto his empty plate. “How about we go take those Instagram pics. It’s golden hour, right?”

Ryan grimaced. “Don’t say _golden hour_.”

“It is though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ryan admitted.

“Great. Let’s go.”

After they brought their empty plates to the café counter, Ryan grinned when Shane threaded their fingers together. They strolled toward Urban Light, their hands swaying back and forth through the companionable silence between them. Their grip fell apart as they weaved through the maze of lampposts. Ryan had seen the exhibit plenty of times in photos or while driving down Wilshire, but actually standing among it, staring up at the lights that hung about twenty feet above his head, he understood the appeal. There was something magical about the nostalgia, like he’d been transported to a different time. He turned toward where Shane stood a few feet away, and from the expression on his face, Ryan guessed the other man’s thoughts were similar to his own.

“This is so gorgeous,” Ryan said as he approached his boyfriend, once again lacing their hands together.

“Isn’t it?” Shane replied, not looking down at him. “I never get tired of it.”

“Yeah, because it’s the only place where you’re shorter than something.”

The comment made Shane smile down at him. “You look way too entranced by the art to be convincingly sarcastic right now.”

“Guilty,” Ryan agreed. “And happily so.”

Shane laughed, then leaned down to kiss him, and Ryan felt like a character in a movie.

“Go pose,” Shane said as he pulled back. “Look pensively off into the distance. Pretend like you’re not flexing your arm.”

“Shut up,” Ryan grumbled, not wanting to admit that that had been his exact gameplan.

“It looks hot,” Shane assured him as he walked deeper into the surrounding grid. “In a douchebag kind of way.”

“You’re really gassing me up here,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes as he turned back toward Shane.

“Not pensive enough,” Shane replied, getting down on one knee with his phone out in front of him. “More casual flexing.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Love you too.”

Ryan laughed, posed, then walked back over to Shane. Satisfied with the photos, he insisted on taking a few of Shane as well.

“Relax your face,” Ryan said. “You look like a cartoon character.”

“That’s just how my face is,” Shane said, grinning wider.

Ryan huffed. “Your  _face_ is very handsome, but you always make these doofy expressions in photos. Just take a natural one for me.”

“Handsome, eh?” Shane said. “How’s a boy supposed to serve a neutral face when you’re throwing around compliments like that?”

“Did you really just say serve face?”

“Isn’t that what all the Instagram girls say? Serving looks?”

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan said with a laugh. “Just take a deep breath and let your face fall naturally.”

Ryan watched as Shane closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, then opened his eyes. Their gazes met, and the slightest smile crossed Shane’s lips, so Ryan snapped a picture.

Of course, Ryan thought as he pulled up the image, Shane looked amazing on the first shot. The setting sun warmed his skin against the grey of his shirt, his hair was perfectly mussed thanks to sliding his sunglasses in and out of it all afternoon, and the smile on his face was so subtle but painstakingly loving. Ryan hoped he’d be able to get a thousand more photos of Shane like this.

“Come over here,” Ryan said, then held out the phone. “Look at this.”

“Oh, wow,” Shane said quietly, taking the phone out of Ryan’s palm. “This looks… really good. I look _good_.”

“Told you,” Ryan teased.

Shane grinned down at him. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Ryan replied. “We should find someone to take a photo of both of us.”

It took a few minutes for Ryan to wrangle a seemingly trustworthy stranger, but once he did, he roped Shane into a multitude of poses. Although he didn’t think he’d post it anywhere, he was secretly pleased to add an LA cliché Urban Light kiss picture to his camera roll.

“Hey, do you think I’d be taller than you if I climbed up on one of these?” Ryan asked as their photographer walked away.

“You could try.”

Ryan nodded, then wrapped an arm around the nearest lamppost. He put his free hand on Shane’s shoulder, planted a foot on the top edge of the pole’s base, then pushed himself upward. He was pleased to find that he was, in fact, a bit taller than Shane, but the happiness didn’t last long.

“Sir!” a guard called, descending on them almost immediately and causing plenty of heads to turn. “Get down from there, please.”

Shane laughed while Ryan mumbled an apology, hoping he wasn’t turning too red as he jumped down.

“Well, it was a good try,” Shane offered.

“And I _was_ taller than you.”

Shane scoffed. “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

The sun set fully on their drive home, and Ryan hoped the backyard at their weekend apartment was as well-lit as his friends had assured them. Thankfully, he discovered as they toted their hot dogs and various accoutrements out to the grill, the entire courtyard was strung with fairy lights.

“This is romantic as hell,” Shane commented, setting their supplies down on a small picnic table.

“It’s pretty great,” Ryan agreed.

They worked together to get the grill going, then Ryan sat back to watch Shane work. He’d offered to man the grill, but Shane decided that Ryan, while a much-improving chef, couldn’t yet be trusted with Perfect Day caliber hot dogs.

“So, I figure we can eat the hot dogs while we watch whatever Mission: Impossible you want to watch next,” Ryan explained while Shane cooked. “Then come back out here and swim for a while.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Which one are we watching?”

Shane shot him a look. “Fallout, obviously.”

“Oh, _obviously_ ,” Ryan repeated.

“Just be lucky you didn’t tell me this was happening, otherwise I would’ve grown out the mustache again.”

Ryan almost shuddered at the memory. “I would straight up dump you.”

Shane laughed, loud and unapologetic, and Ryan felt strangely a little guilty for joking about the idea of ever leaving him.

Once they were settled on the couch with their dinner and a six-pack of beer, Ryan found himself in a similar situation he’d been in earlier that day. He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Shane’s – thankfully mustache-free – profile, reveling in every smile. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he felt silly for ever thinking Shane might have been put off by such a gesture.

As the credits rolled, Shane planted his elbows on his knees, then dropped his face into his hands.

“You okay?” Ryan asked, laying a hand on his back.

“It’s too good,” Shane answered, his voice muffled.

“Huh?”

Shane lifted his head. “It’s too good, Ry. No movie should be that good. It’s criminal.”

“I know, man,” Ryan said with a laugh, gently rubbing Shane’s back. “Pool time?”

“Pool time.”

Pool time, unsurprisingly, was mostly the two of them discussing Fallout while treading water. The fact that Shane was still finding new things to discuss nearly a year later was as impressive as it was slightly annoying, but Ryan humored him nonetheless.

The conversation tapered off eventually, and once the air between them was filled with nothing but the grey noise of Los Angeles, Ryan felt exhausted. A good exhausted, he thought, like falling asleep in the car on the way home from the beach. He floated on his back, staring at the sky, imagining stars that weren’t there.

“Earth to Ryan?” Shane said, snapping him out of it.

“Huh?” Ryan turned to look at Shane, seeming to forget he was in water, and capsized a bit before reorienting.

“I said your name like six times. Were you asleep?”

“Like, half asleep, I think.”

Shane laughed. “The pool was the last part of the day, right?”

“Sort of,” Ryan answered. “We have to have sex, too.”

“Oh, we _have_ to?” Shane said with a smile. “Am I a chore now?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Ryan said, splashing him softly.

“I know.” Shane splashed him back. “Let’s head inside.”

After drying off outside, they milled around the unfamiliar bedroom, hanging their swim trunks and towels to dry in the shower and changing into their pajamas.

“Really?” Shane said as Ryan pulled on his _i hate the hot daga_ shirt.

“I had to get one jab in,” Ryan replied. “Plus, it’s past midnight, so technically the day is over.”

“Fair enough.”

Once they were settled on the bed, leaning against the headboard but facing each other, Ryan realized how futile putting his shirt on had actually been. He reached up and grasped the back of the collar to pull it back off, but Shane stopped him before he could.

“Ryan,” he said softly. “What time did you get up this morning?”

“Like 6AM.”

Shane balked. “Why that early?”

“I had to go out and buy all the food and stuff, and you know I chronically overestimate how much time I’ll need to set anything up.”

“So you’ve been awake for,” Shane glanced at the clock, “eighteen and a half hours?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

“And how much sleep did you get last night?”

“A solid four hours.”

Shane sighed. “Jesus, man.”

“It’s fine!” Ryan insisted. “As long as you’re cool doing most of the work, we can–”

“Ry, if you’re not into it, I’m not gonna be into it.”

“I’m into it,” he said weakly, barely convincing himself.

Shane smiled. “I promise, this day was more than perfect enough as is.”

“Was it?”

“Yes. Completely.”

Ryan smiled, and leaned forward to kiss him.

“Let’s just do this for a while,” Shane said, pulling back only the slightest bit before resuming the kiss.

“Do what?” Ryan asked, the words muffled against Shane’s mouth.

Shane smiled and pulled a bit farther back so Ryan could see him playfully roll his eyes. “ _This_ , Ry.”

Ryan got the message when Shane laid a hand on his waist and kissed him again.

As their lips moved against each other, Ryan tried to remember the last time he’d kissed someone like this just to kiss them; no intention of things going further but no intention of pulling away. Kisses, in his adult experience, were usually short and sweet or part of the lead up to something more. It all felt strangely adolescent, but charming in its innocence.

Shane’s hand slowly meandered from his waist to the small of his back, gently pulling him closer. Ryan slid his palm from Shane’s cheek to his neck in response, threading his fingers through the short hair at the base of the other man’s skull.

Shane hummed, soft and content, and Ryan felt his heart melt. He wanted to pull back, look Shane straight in the eye and spill out every feeling he had. He wanted to tell Shane everything he loved about him, about them, about this day. He wanted to tell Shane how stupid he felt for waiting so long, but how grateful he was that they’d ended up here. Instead, he smiled into their kiss, and hoped Shane could feel it, too.

Some time later, their movements slowed. Their breathing evened out. Their grips on each other loosened. Ryan wasn’t sure who pulled back first – maybe they had simultaneously – but lying with his forehead pressed lightly against Shane’s, looking into each other’s blurry eyes, the world could’ve burned down around them and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Thank you,” Shane said softly. “For today and for… everything.”

“You’re welcome,” Ryan replied.

Shane laid his hand on Ryan’s cheek, and Ryan’s eyes fluttered closed in anticipation of Shane’s lips returning to his. Instead, Shane stayed in place, letting his warm palm rest against Ryan’s skin. It somehow felt more intimate than a kiss, sharing space and stillness the way they were.

Shane whispered, “I love you.”

Ryan pressed a kiss to the heel of Shane's hand, then whispered back, “I love you, too.”

Sleep pulled them under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of things in this fic are pulled from my own life, but my favorite of those things is the fact that the only thing i got out of spending hours at the lacma was a few dope instagram pics, including one with urban light, and a story about getting yelled at for climbing on the lampposts. los angeles is the worst but i love it forever.
> 
> that being said, i think it’s finally time i lay this baby to rest, so i’ve marked the fic as complete. however! inspiration may still strike and there might be future updates, so don’t unsub yet! but also don’t definitely expect anything else. i also reordered the existing chapters to be chronological.
> 
> my reason for ending it is mostly just because i’m out of ideas i had along the way, but if you’ve got any moments from I Will Be the Sun that you’d like to see from someone else’s pov – or tbh any in-universe prompt, pre-, during or post-IWBTS – i’d love to try and write it. (or any shyan prompt. literally any prompt in or out of this fic. i love these boys.) you can leave a comment here or i made a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/sohapppily) just for this purpose since i don’t have any fandom socials and i don’t want my real life professional adult socials linked here bc i’m a paranoid bitch.
> 
> truly my biggest dream in my fandom life is to inspire others to create, so if anyone feels compelled to write or draw or make anything within or related to this little universe, i absolutely implore you to do so, and literally _**beg**_ you to share it with me. i will love it no matter what you think of it once it’s finished.
> 
> thank you SO MUCH!!! to everyone who read this fic start to finish, to everyone who left kudos and comments, to everyone who bookmarked it or recommended it to someone else, to everyone who mentioned it on their socials which i saw when i was lurking around like a total creep ass. i had a blast writing it and i’m really going to miss this cozy little universe i threw together. (so hopefully i end up revisiting it!)
> 
> stay spooky y’all. hashtag shaniacs rock. xoxo.


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